


it's not right (but it's now or never)

by Nutella_enthusiast



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Closeted Character, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Infidelity, M/M, Political Campaigns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4620726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nutella_enthusiast/pseuds/Nutella_enthusiast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Tybalt is two hours, three glasses of wine, and four shots of rum into the party, way past tipsy, and wants desperately to kiss the dark haired man who hasn’t even told him his name. He’s abrasive and offensive and a little misogynistic, and undeniably the most attractive person that Tybalt has ever met."</i>
</p><p>Tybalt sticks his dick where he probably shouldn't, regrets it, and then does it again anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teenagedenigma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenagedenigma/gifts).



> an early birthday for my lovely wife nat
> 
> title from "diplomat's son" by vampire weekend

September, 2015

Tybalt is just preparing his third cup of tea for the day (post-homework, pre-dinner) when Juliet calls. He presses the phone between his ear and his shoulder, holding the handle of his mug in one hand and the string of his tea bag in the other. Holding the mug carefully, as not spill anything, he pads across his living room in socked feet towards his bedroom, wondering idly if he has the energy to cook, or if he should just order in and spend the evening in bed watching Netflix instead. He’s sure he could convince Juliet to watch one of her cheesy romcoms with him over skype, and if he’s really lucky, he might even be able to convince her it was her idea.

“Hey,” he says with a faint smile, already picking a movie in his head. “What’s up?”

“Did you get the invitation?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” says Tybalt, setting his tea down carefully on his nightstand and sitting down on the edge of his bed. “Unless it was the invitation Uncle Gio to dinner when he's here in November, which I already told him I’d go-”

“No, no, the postman said it would have been there by yesterday and I wanted you to be the first to hear. I mean, besides father and mother, obviously, and the nurse. And Rosie I guess, since she saw the ring when I got home the other day, so-”

“Wait, ring?”

Juliet giggles like she’s fourteen again, whispering to Tybalt about her crush on the gardener’s son. “Surprise?”

Tybalt scoffs. This is _far_ from a surprise. The way Juliet’s been talking to him about her new guy for the last six months, he’s almost surprised it took them this long to decide to make it official. “Does this mean you’ll finally tell me who he is? If Aunt Maryse and Uncle Gio approve, I don’t see why you think I wouldn’t.”

Juliet makes a noncommittal sound and doesn’t answer his question. “The engagement party’s next weekend,” she says instead.

“So I’m going to the engagement party of you and a guy whose name you won’t even tell me. Do I know him?”

“Maybe it was a sign that your invitation didn’t deliver,” says Juliet. “I’ll see you Saturday. Wear a tie.”

“Jules, I _ju_ _st_  started classes for the quarter, I can’t just-” he starts, but she’s already hung up.

***

Tybalt straightens his tie for what feels like the hundredth time and tries not to think about the fact that his nineteen year old cousin is getting married to a guy whose name he doesn’t even know, while he’s in his last year of college, working towards a political science degree he’s not even sure he wants, with no romantic prospects to speak of.

He sighs deeply and reaches out to ring the doorbell.

Juliet answers it within seconds, her blonde hair pulled back in an elegant bun, dressed in the shortest, fluffiest white dress Tybalt has ever seen. Her face breaks into a bright grin as soon as she sees him, and in the moment that she pulls him in and hugs him, he almost forgets that he’s annoyed at her. It’s only been a month since she left after helping him move into his new apartment in New York, but to Tybalt, it feels like it’s been forever. He’s always had a soft spot for Juliet - maybe because she was the only one of their countless cousins that was younger than him, maybe because she was just so purely _good_ , but something about seeing her has never failed to put him in a better mood, even when it’s her who irritated him in the first place.

“I missed you,” she says, stretching up on her toes and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “None of these old folks know how to have a good time,” she adds in a conspiratorial whisper, glancing over her shoulder at where the nurse is readjusting Mr. Capulet’s war medals above the fireplace.

“Don’t you have a doorman to do this?” asks Tybalt.

“I think he’s in the kitchen flirting with the cook,” says Juliet, stepping back so Tybalt can enter and holding a hand out to take his coat. The huge, heart shaped diamond on her ring finger is hard to miss. “Guests aren’t supposed to start showing up for a half hour or so anyways. You’re just chronically early.”

“I thought I’d come see if you needed any help. Clearly you’re fine though, so I guess I’ll just-”

Juliet cuts him off quickly, taking his hand and pulling him in through the sitting room and into the dining room. “You can help me talk to the caterers. Mother keeps saying I’m too nice to them.”

Tybalt snorts. “She’s definitely never told me I’m too nice to anyone. Mostly it’s just been, ‘Stand up straight, Tybalt,’ and ‘Watch your mouth, Tybalt,’ and ‘Children should be seen and not heard, Tybalt.’”

Juliet flushes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

Tybalt cuts her off quickly. He shouldn’t have said anything at all “It’s fine, I was just- Never mind. Is the fiance here yet?”

Juliet shakes her head. “No, I told him he could just get here with the rest of the guests. He was here yesterday trying to help but he kept flirting with the nurse to make me laugh, and she kept getting more and more frustrated until finally she told him that if he wasn’t going to do anything he should just go home.”

Tybalt laughs. “I always liked the nurse.”

Juliet rolls her eyes and smacks him on the arm, clearly trying to hide a smile. “Just shut up and help me with the caterers.”

“And Maryse says you’re too nice.”

***

Tybalt is an hour and three glasses of wine into the party, just on the edge of tipsy, and wants desperately to go home. He knows his uncle expects him to be making connections, finding someone to intern with after he graduates, but all he can think about the fact that he needs a cup of tea and a nap. He politely excuses himself from a conversation with a Pennsylvania senator’s wife about her dog, and walks into the kitchen to see if he can find anything stronger to drink, only to find a dark haired man sitting on the counter, an almost empty wineglass in one hand and a cell phone in the other. His too long hair is falling in his eyes, and he’s smiling at something on the screen, and Tybalt is instantly struck by just how beautiful he is.

Tybalt clears his throat awkwardly, and the man jerks his head up, looking at him with piercing, strangely familiar looking dark brown eyes. “Can I help you?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” says Tybalt with a frown. “You know you’re not supposed to be in here, right?”

The man shrugs, slipping his phone into the pocket of his ridiculously tight slacks. “My uncle kept fussing over my hair and my tie and how I’m ‘representing the family.’”

Tybalt laughs humorlessly and kneels in front of one of the cabinets, reaching as far into it as he can, behind a bundt pan that he’s fairly sure has never been used. He’s not even surprised that the bottle’s still there. “Trust me, I know all about difficult uncles. Rum?”

The man laughs at the half empty bottle clutched in Tybalt’s hand, but holds out his glass anyways, as Tybalt brushes the dust off of it and pulls out the cork. “How did you know that was there?”

Tybalt shrugs. “I’ve spent a lot of time here. This is pretty old, but it should still do its job.”

He pours some into the other man’s glass, then his own, the clear liquid turning slightly pink as it mixes with the few drops of red wine that he has left. He still remembers begging Rosaline to buy this bottle for him, senior year of high school.

“You hiding from your uncle too then?” asks the man.

“Peaches, actually,” says Tybalt, pulling himself up onto the counter as well. He misjudges the size of it and ends up with thigh pressed flush against the other’s, but neither of them pull away.

“Is that the name of someone’s trophy wife, or a really bad euphemism for a woman with a boob job?”

Tybalt doesn’t remember the last time that someone who he’d just met had actually made him laugh. “It’s the name of the Pennsylvania senator’s wife’s dog.”

“So it was both then?”

Tybalt smiles and takes a drink of the rum. He coughs, wincing at the taste, and the other man pats him on the back with a smirk. “You alright there?”

“I think four years might be a little too old for an open bottle of rum.”

“Probably,” says the dark haired man, throwing back his rum as well and looking at his glass with a frown. His sleeve gets pulled up a little when he does, and Tybalt catches a glimpse of a black tattoo decorating his wrist before he pulls it back down. “That is really terrible.”

“You want more?” asks Tybalt, holding out the bottle.

The man grins and hands Tybalt his glass.

***

Tybalt is two hours, three glasses of wine, and four shots of rum into the party, way past tipsy, and wants desperately to kiss the dark haired man who hasn’t even told him his name. He’s abrasive and offensive and a little misogynistic, and undeniably the most attractive person that Tybalt has ever met.

“I don’t think I want to be a senator,” he says, cutting the man off in the middle of a speech on why Avatar: The Last Airbender is arguably the best show ever made.

The man doesn’t even look surprised that Tybalt interrupted him. Tybalt has a feeling, considering how much he talks, that he’s used to it. “Then don’t,” he says.

“It’s not that easy. My uncle-”

“Sure it is. I mean my uncle wasn’t exactly happy that I didn’t go to law school, but he got over it. I’m sure yours will too.”

Tybalt stares at the man in silence. He’s never really seriously considered the possibility that he could do something other than follow in his uncle’s footsteps. He’s so busy staring, in fact, that it takes him a moment to realize just how close they are. When he finally does, his first thought is that he should pull away and apologize, or at least just laugh it off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he does what he’s been wanting to do for the last hour, and closes the gap between them.

The dark haired man seems to have been expecting it, because he kisses back fiercely, sliding one hand into Tybalt’s hair to pull him closer. It’s all Tybalt can do to keep up as the other man sucks his lower lip into his mouth, his other hand resting gently on Tybalt’s knee but slowly inching higher.

Tybalt finally forces himself to pull away, breathless and doubtlessly completely flushed. “We shouldn’t-.”

“Oh,” says the brunet, frowning and pulling away. “Right.” He slides forward off the counter and carefully adjusts his dark red dress pants. “I should’ve known you’d be too scared to-”

Tybalt snorts. “I just meant someone could come in. I was _going_ to ask if you wanted to go upstairs, but I guess-”

“I should get back to the party. My uncle-”

“Who’s scared now?”

The man gives him a fierce look, and for a moment Tybalt thinks he’s gone too far, but finally he speaks. “Give me 15 minutes.”

Tybalt smirks. “Third door on the left.”

***

By the time the door finally opens, after almost 25 minutes, Tybalt has already shed his shirt and tie, and is laying across the bed in just his dress pants and socks, the now nearly empty bottle of rum clutched in his hand.

“Getting started without me?” The door closes quietly, but Tybalt keeps his gaze fixed on the ceiling above him.

“You’re late.”

“I got stuck talking to my cousin. Can you ever forgive me?” There is the sound of footsteps across the hardwood floor, then the feeling of the mattress dipping down beside him, but Tybalt doesn’t move his gaze away from the ceiling until he feels soft lips pressing against his stomach. “Pretty please?” he asks, looking up at Tybalt through his eyelashes and pouting like a child.

“Shut up,” says Tybalt with a snort, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt and pulling him up so he can kiss him again.

He kisses Tybalt like he has something to prove, all sharp teeth and pressure, and for once, Tybalt isn’t afraid to let himself get lost in it. He lets his mind clear, until all he can focus on is the beautiful man on top of him - the feeling of his lips kissing a path down Tybalt’s neck, his hands in Tybalt’s hair, his hips grinding against Tybalt’s own, making it clear that the man is enjoying this just as much as he is. Tybalt doesn’t remember the last time he allowed himself to focus on something this fully besides when he’s boxing. Even when he’s with Juliet his mind is always in a million other places at once.

Hands trembling, Tybalt reaches for the brunet’s tie, tugging the knot loose and starting on the buttons of his shirt.

Tybalt knows he’s attractive, objectively speaking. He’s got high cheekbones and big blue eyes and years of boxing and rugby has left his body toned and muscled, if not very large. He’s never been particularly self conscious, but suddenly, presented with such a large expanse of tanned, golden skin, he’s feeling much less confident in his appearance. The man’s stomach and chest are flat and lightly muscled, and Tybalt can see more black lines on his shoulder and extending onto his upper chest. He wonders if it’s a seperate tattoo from the one he saw earlier, or if he has a whole sleeve done.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” says the man, and Tybalt jerks his gaze away from his chest and back to his face, which is sporting a smug smirk. “Like what you see?”

Tybalt says nothing, just snorts and pulls him in for another bruising kiss, letting his hands slip inside the man’s shirt and onto his back, marveling at how smooth and soft his skin feels under Tybalt’s callused fingertips.

“Does your uncle know about these?” asks the man, pulling away from the kiss and gently brushing one finger over the bar in Tybalt’s nipple, smirking wickedly.

“Yeah, he’s got a pair of matching ones and everything,” says Tybalt flatly, barely stopping himself from sucking in a sharp breath at the man’s touch. He reaches up to cup the back of the man’s head and kiss him again, more to shut him up than anything else, but he resists, slipping away from Tybalt’s hand and kissing a path down his neck and chest, the thumb and forefinger of his right hand still gently playing with Tybalt’s piercing. His tongue brushes over the other nipple without warning, and Tybalt gasps, arching his back up into the touch. The man stifles something that Tybalt thinks is a chuckle, and if he were capable, at the moment, of stringing together a proper sentence, he might have chastised him for it.

Instead, he bites his lip to muffle a groan, and twists his fingers through the other man’s hair. Slowly, still playing with Tybalt’s piercing with his tongue, the other man’s hand makes its way down Tybalt’s chest, before finally coming to rest on his belt buckle. He unfastens it quickly, undoing Tybalt’s pants and finally pulling away from his chest so he can use both of his hands to pull them down. Tybalt lifts his hips off the bed so the man can pull them down to his knees, before moving his hand back up to rub at Tybalt’s cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs. There’s barely any pressure at all, but Tybalt’s hips jerk up at the contact. Before the man can do anything else though, they are interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a cell phone buzzing. Tybalt expects the man to ignore it, but instead, he sits back on his heels, straddling Tybalt’s legs, and reaches into his pocket. He glances at the screen, smiles, and answers it, hand still resting gently on Tybalt’s cock.

“Hey, what’s up?” he says, like Tybalt isn’t falling apart beneath him. “Oh, yeah, I got here like an hour and a half ago.”

He presses the phone between his ear and his shoulder and hooks his fingers in the waistband of Tybalt’s shorts, pulling them down quickly, still talking to whoever’s on the other line like this is totally normal. His hand finds Tybalt’s cock again and Tybalt sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, biting his lip hard to stop himself from moaning. The man gives him an approving nod, running his thumb gently across Tybalt’s slit.

“Well, have you seen _him_  yet?”

He starts moving his hand, touches still feather light, doing nothing more than making Tybalt squirm and jerk his hips up again, craving more.

“No, I know, I got distracted.”

With no warning, he tightens his grip, speeds up the motion of his wrist, and Tybalt can’t stifle his gasp. As quickly as the man had started moving, he stops, taking his hand off of Tybalt’s cock completely. Tybalt manages to stifle his whine of protest at that, but only barely.

“Nothing important,” says the man, looking Tybalt directly in the eye, moving his hand up to sharply pinch one of his nipples. Tybalt tries his hardest to ignore the amused smirk on his partner’s face as he arches his back into the touch again.

“Yeah, just give me like ten minutes,” says the man. He pauses, taking in Tybalt’s appearance - swollen spit-slick lips, cock red and dripping against his stomach, sweaty and shaking underneath him - and grins. “Actually, make it five.” He hangs up his phone, tosses it aside, and leans back down to take Tybalt into his mouth.

***

It takes Tybalt a minute to recover enough to ask if he can return the favor, but by the time he forces himself to sit up, the man is already across the room, shirt rebuttoned, tying his tie.

“Maybe next time,” he says with a smirk.

“How will there be a next time if you won’t even tell me what your name is?”

The man laughs, reaching down to pull on his shoes. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough. I’m pretty easy to find.” He pauses, a strange look on his face. “You know you can’t tell anyone about this, right?”

Tybalt almost laughs. “Trust me, if my uncle found out I’m gay, I’d be dead before I could even consider telling him anything about you.”

The brunet looks for a moment like he’s going to say something, but instead he slips out the door without another word.

Tybalt is tempted to just lay on his childhood bed and brood until the last guests have left and he can finally head back to the airport, but he’s torn from his thoughts by the sound of his phone buzzing. He’s considers just ignoring it, but the only person who ever calls him is Juliet, and he knows better than to ignore her.

“Hello?” he says, realizing belatedly that his pants are still pushed down to his knees and that his shirt is somewhere across the room.

“Where are you?”

“Upstairs.”

“Why are you- nevermind. Just get down here, okay? You do still want to meet the fiance, right?”

Tybalt had almost completely forgotten about meeting Juliet’s fiance. “Fuck. Yeah, I’ll be down in like five minutes.”

“Good.” Juliet pauses, but Tybalt’s known her long enough to know that he knows she’s not done talking yet. The problem with that though, is that Juliet knows him just as well, and can always tell when something’s bothering him. “Are you okay?” she asks finally.

“What? Yeah, I’m- You know me.”

“Yeah, I do,” says Juliet. She pauses again, clearly thinking, before sucking in a sharp breath.”You met someone, didn’t you?”

Tybalt smiles faintly, his gaze fixed on the door. “I think I might have.”

He can hear the smile in Juliet’s voice. “Good, I can’t wait to hear all about them. But right now you need to get your butt down here and meet my fiance.”

Tybalt laughs. “Yeah, okay. Be there in a few.”

He dresses quickly, hides the almost empty bottle under the loose floorboard he used to hide his porn and boxing gloves under when he was growing up, and slips out the door, trying his hardest to focus on Juliet and not the dark haired man. It doesn’t really work.

“Tybalt!” comes a voice, the moment he’s descended the last stair, and he turns to find Juliet, wine glass in hand, cheeks pink and hair just starting to escape the tiny silver pins she has keeping it in place. If Tybalt had to guess, he would say she’s had at least three glasses of wine, maybe four. “I’ve been looking for you for ages!” She lowers her voice dramatically. “Dad’s friends are really boring and Rosie’s got paperwork or something that she’s doing and she won’t be here for at least another hour.”

“What about the fiance? Shouldn’t he be entertaining you?”

Juliet frowns. “I’ve barely even seen him tonight. Dad probably stole him away to talk about his political plans or something. I’m not sure he really approves of him yet.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No, no, really. He’s so great, I swear. He’s sweet, and fun, and he makes me laugh.”

“And you’re happy?”

Juliet grins brightly and nods. “I’m so happy.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

“Even if, hypothetically, you knew him a long time ago and hated him?”

Tybalt furrows his brow. “Hypothetically?”

Juliet nods.

“Hypothetically, sure,” he says with a sigh, knowing he’ll regret it later.

Juliet grins, grabbing Tybalt by the arm and dragging him towards a nearby group of people. “I’m holding you to that,” she says brightly. “Babe, this is my cousin, Tybalt.” She grabs the arm of a man wearing a white button up shirt and a familiar pair of dark red dress pants. “Tybalt, this is my fiance, Mercutio D’Escalus.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much happens in this chapter sorry  
> the next one has mercutio in it again tho eyyyy

October, 2015

Tybalt feels suddenly as if all the air has been sucked from the room at once. 

“I-” he chokes out, his eyes darting back and forth between Juliet and Mercutio. He’s relieved to see that Mercutio looks almost as surprised as he is. If he’d recognized Tybalt, realized who he was, and still had sex with him, Tybalt doesn’t know what he would have done. He’s already considering punching him in the face. If it weren’t for Juliet, and the fact that Tybalt’s uncle would kill him for starting a scene at his party, he probably would have. Even so, it takes considerable strength to shove his hands into his pockets and keep his voice steady when he speaks again. “Mercutio,” he says with a sneer. “It’s been a while.”

“Tybalt,” says Juliet quietly, warningly, placing her hand gently on Tybalt’s arm.

“Finally done screwing anything with a pulse then?”

Mercutio smoothes his face into one of his signature smirks, and Tybalt forces himself not to react. “I’ll admit, my standards have been...” he pauses, giving Tybalt a once over. “Low at times. That’s all cleared up now though.” He slides an arm around Juliet’s waist and Tybalt’s stomach lurches unpleasantly.

Tybalt frowns and narrows his eyes at the other man. “Glad to hear it.”

“Tybalt,” says Juliet again through gritted teeth, squeezing his arm much tighter.

“Juliet,” says Tybalt, turning to look at her - anything to take his gaze away from Mercutio, who’s still standing there smirking like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“You said you’d be nice.”

Tybalt almost laughs. “When am I ever nice?”

***

Tybalt manages to avoid Juliet’s calls for almost a week after the party. Finally, the following Friday, she calls him at three in the morning, and he’s so tired that he answers his phone without even looking at the screen.

“What?”

“Tybalt Andreus Capulet, you are in so much trouble.”

Tybalt groans and buries his face in his pillow. “Jules, I’ve got a test in five hours.”

“Well maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to ignore me for a week.”

“I’ve been busy,” says Tybalt, but it sounds weak even to his own ears.

“You said you’d give him a chance.”

“And if it were anyone else, I would have.”

“You promised.”

Tybalt sighs deeply. “If I give him another chance will you let me go back to sleep?”

“We’ll be in the city tomorrow for father’s campaign. Will you meet us for dinner?”

Tybalt is far too tired to come up with an excuse. “Fine.”

“I’ll text you where to meet us!”

Juliet hangs up before he can say anything else, and Tybalt sighs again, reaching over to put his phone on the nightstand and flopping back onto his pillows, suddenly very awake. As if the whole situation wasn’t complicated enough, thinking about Mercutio had gotten him thinking about the nightmare that was his time as a teenager again, something that he’s spent the years since trying his hardest to block from his memory. 

He can’t stop thinking about all the long nights he spent alone in his bedroom growing up, trying to force himself to understand why all of his friends were suddenly talking about girls when all he could think about was that no matter how much of a dick he was, every time the Capulets had Mercutio’s family over for dinner Tybalt couldn’t stop staring at his shoulder muscles under his too tight band shirts, his legs in the black skinny jeans he always wore, his dark eyes, always carefully lined in black eyeliner. Maybe it was the fact that Tybalt’s uncle had always disapproved of him, or the devilish smirk he wore whenever he won an argument, but Tybalt had always felt a strange pull towards him. His family had moved to DC halfway through his and Tybalt’s eighth grade year though, when his uncle had been elected to the Supreme Court, and Tybalt hadn’t seen him since - not until Juliet’s party.

Tybalt tosses and turns until the sky outside is tinged with grey and his alarm is set to go off any minute before he finally gives up on getting any more sleep. He pulls himself out of bed and into the shower, turning the water knob all the way to cold, hoping the blast of icy water will do something to properly wake him up. When that doesn’t work, he throws on a pair of sweatpants and pads to the kitchen, digging into the back of his cupboard for the still unused coffee maker that one of his friends had given him when he’d first moved into the apartment. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d actually had a cup of coffee. It had always made him jittery and nervous, and after his junior year of high school, when he’d drank two pots in an hour while studying the night before the SATs and ended up having a panic attack in the middle of the writing section, he’d switched to drinking tea.

On the other hand, he’s got an in class essay to write on Machiavellian theory in less than an hour and only three hours of sleep to write it on.

Tybalt groans, turns on the coffee pot, and goes to put on a shirt.

***

Tybalt finishes the essay, barely, but he spends the whole class period feeling twitchy and nauseous. It doesn’t help that Benvolio Montague is in his class, and his mere presence has always put Tybalt on edge. It’s not that he was surprised, necessarily, when he found out they’d be going to the same school. Plenty of senator’s children and families went to the Ivy Leagues, and considering Ben’s uncle is one of the New York Senators, it made sense that he’d ended up at one of the two in New York. It isn’t even that he’s a bad guy; he’s actually pretty nice from what Tybalt can tell, although he’d never admit it. The problem is that the Montagues and the Capulets have hated each other ever since Giovanni Capulet and Theodore Montague were in law school together years before. No one knew exactly why they hated each other, because everyone asked would tell the story differently, but anyone in either family could say one thing for sure. The Montagues and Capulets, could not, under any circumstances, get along again.

Add to that the fact that Tybalt knows that Ben and Mercutio are best friends, having him sitting two rows ahead of him, his strawberry blonde hair glowing like a beacon in the sunlight streaming in from outside, along with the pot of coffee that Tybalt really shouldn’t have drank, and he can barely focus on the piece of paper in front of him. 

When he finishes the essay, five minutes before the deadline, he’s more than ready to just go home, take a nap, and pretend he doesn’t have to deal with his favorite cousin’s terrible fiance that evening.

As it turns out, Juliet has other plans.

She’s standing outside his classroom, dressed in a pair of high waisted jeans and a crop top, small round sunglasses perched on her head, talking to Ben Montague. She’s laughing at something he’s said, bright and joyful, and Ben has the same proud look on his face that everyone gets when Juliet approves of them. There’s something about her that makes everyone around her want to be better people. Besides her fiance, apparently.

“Jules,” says Tybalt flatly, completely ignoring Ben. The last time they’d interacted, Ben had been attempting to break up a fight that Tybalt had gotten into, and it had ended with both of them being threatened with expulsion. Since then, Tybalt has done his best to avoid acknowledging him at all. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ll see you later,” mutters Ben, slipping away down the hallway. Tybalt doesn’t turn to watch him go.

“He’s not so bad you know,” says Juliet, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning.

“Evidently,” says Tybalt. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought we could get lunch,” says Juliet coolly. “Maybe I’ll go ask Ben instead though. He, at least, seemed happy to see me.”

Tybalt gritted his teeth. “Of course I’m happy to see you, Jules. I just wish you wouldn’t talk to him. Montagues are bad news, you know that.”

“Do I?” asked Juliet loftily. “Because he’s always been perfectly nice to me, and he’s my fiance’s best friend, so if you have a problem with him, you should take it up with Mercutio.”

“I’m not taking anything up with Mercutio,” snapped Tybalt.

“You said-”

“I’d give him a chance, yeah.”

“He’s not the same person he was when you knew him. If you just try, I think you two could really get along.”

Tybalt wishes she wasn’t right. He can’t tell her though. “Fine,” he says. “One more chance.” If Mercutio promises to pretend it never happened, Tybalt will try too. 

Juliet grins brightly. “Great! Lunch?”

Tybalt sighs. “Yeah, okay.”

***

“So, this guy you met,” says Juliet, spearing a cherry tomato on her fork and popping it into her mouth, somehow managing to keep her bright red lipstick pristine as ever. “Do I know him?”

Tybalt nearly chokes. “What?”

“The guy you met at the party.”

“Um,” says Tybalt. The room suddenly feels very hot, and the collar of his polo is rubbing uncomfortably at his throat. “It was _your_ party.”

Juliet scoffs. “You think I knew more than half the people there? It was more Dad’s party than anything else.”

“Oh,” says Tybalt. He knew that, obviously, but it’s not like he can exactly tell Juliet the truth.

“Was it... What’s his name? Rosie’s friend? He’s gay, right?”

“It wasn’t what’s his name,” says Tybalt, poking at his asparagus. He’d slept with what’s his name at his father’s Christmas party the year before and quickly vowed never to do it again. “He’s... I don’t think he’s out either.”

“Ooh, is it a big scandal?” asked Juliet, eating one of the prawns off the top of her salad. “Is he _married_? Is it that senator with the wife who only talks about her dog?”

“Peaches?”

“Yes!” says Juliet, grinning. “Is it him?”

Tybalt laughs. “Jules, he’s like fifty.”

Juliet shrugs. “He looks good for fifty.”

“No,” says Tybalt, wrinkling his nose. “It’s not him. It’s... Nothing else is going to happen anyways.”

“So it is a scandal.”

Tybalt sighs. “Yeah, I guess it’s a scandal.”

Juliet claps her hands joyfully.

“I’m not telling you anything else.”

“Yet.”

Tybalt rolls his eyes. “Sure, yet.”

Juliet grins.

“So, tell me about how he proposed,” says Tybalt with a sigh, wishing he could distract her in any other way but knowing from the last six months that this is all that will work. He’s never heard Juliet talk about someone the way she talks about her fiance. About _Mercutio_. “I know you want to.”

“Well,” says Juliet, grinning broadly and leaning forward, setting her chin in her hand. She breaks into a long, involved story about him making her this fancy dinner and taking her out on the balcony to look at the stars that Tybalt only half follows. It doesn’t sound at all like something Mercutio would have done, and if it hadn’t been for what happened at the party, Tybalt really might have thought he’d changed. As it is though, all he can think is how well the man has Juliet fooled.

“That’s nice,” he hums, once she finishes. “He... Sounds like he really cares about you.”

“He’s amazing,” says Juliet dreamily. Tybalt promises himself that he’ll talk to Mercutio tonight, make sure he knows that nothing can ever happen between them again. If not for his own sake, for Juliet’s. She deserves better, but if she’s decided Mercutio is what she wants, Tybalt is going to make damn sure he doesn’t mess it up for her.


End file.
